


Something Unexpected

by Stisaac



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, stisaac - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stisaac/pseuds/Stisaac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be simple. Go to college, get a degree, get a job that would support him for the rest of his life.  But sometimes life throws you a curve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I wrote this for my dear friend Sam as a thank you for helping me through a really difficult semester, and she in turn encouraged me to post it on here! For now it's a series of drabbles about Stiles and Isaac meeting in college and. . . I can't say anymore because that would give it away lol. Stuff happens though. A lot. A lot of angsty stuff because angst is my drug of choice. But let's not get too ahead of ourselves, right?

~STILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILESSTILES~

Stiles isn’t a big believer in love at first sight. Disney movies with their fairy tale romances and happy endings are stupid and unrealistic. It never happens that way in real life. He rolls his eyes as he listens to yet another girl talk about her special date night with her boyfriend. Four months he thinks to himself. Four months from now and you’ll probably find out that he’s been cheating on you with that chick in his ethics class. Ironic isn’t it? 

Of course, Jess, the poor ignorant girl talking now would never find out. She is in Stiles’ Civil War history class right now and five minutes ago she mixed up General Lee with General Grant. He can’t keep the look of annoyance of his face so he turns away, propping his head up in his hands. It’s not his place to say something but part of him just wants to put the poor girl out of her misery. At the very least maybe she’ll be able to focus on her studies. 

Suddenly the door opens so hard that it hits against the hall, cutting Jess off from her monologue. Sighing in relief, Stiles turns around to see his saviour and despite his earlier thoughts, his eyes widen because wow. 

The class has gone completely silent. Professor Sanders turns around, the hand that holds the marker still hovering close to the board. “You’re almost ten minutes late,” he says, voice dripping with disgust. He glances over his eye glasses at the list of students on his desk. “I assume you’re Mr. Isaac Lahey?”

The newcomer’s face is bright red but the humiliated blush doesn’t diminish those brilliant blue eyes. “Y-yeah,” he chokes out in a nervous gasp that makes Stiles cringe on behalf of him. “Sorry, sir. I was… lost.”

"First day," the professor sighs impatiently. "I presume you didn’t bother to make sure you knew where all your classes were before you had to go to them? And where were you the other day for the first day of class?"

A quiet snickering fills the room and Stiles’ heart goes out to the poor guy. He’s already missed one whole class and now he’s being ridiculed in front of everyone else. So much for people maturing in college. So far his impression is that it’s high school all over again. Thirteenth and fourteenth grade. 

"Hey," he whispers just so the kid, so Isaac, can hear him. "Here." He nods at the empty desk next to him. 

Isaac slides in so fast that he nearly knocks Stiles’ books off the desk with his backpack. “Sorry!” he exclaims, blushing even more. 

"Dude, it’s okay," Stiles tries to calm him down. "Just-"

"Mr. Stilinski!" Professor Sanders says in a booming voice that makes both of them jump. "Kindly refrain from disrupting the class any further. And in the future, I would appreciate it if you and Mr. Lahey would show me the proper respect…"

But his voice fades as Stiles’ mind drifts into his own thoughts, flipping back and forth between the unfairness of Jess not getting in trouble for talking and Isaac. Just Isaac. He’s hiding his face slightly but Stiles can see his curly golden hair. He literally looks like one of the Precious Moments angels that Stiles’ mom got him when he was little. 

Isaac catches him staring and suddenly they have matching red faces. Stiles sends him a quick grin and a little wave of his fingers. Having never been graced with social skis or the ability to walk without tripping over his own two feet, he’s used to being embarrassed. By now he’s used to handling humiliation as natural as someone may breathe. 

But Isaac is now staring at his textbook like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. Stiles sighs quietly and sits back in his chair, trying to refocus on the lecture. He can see Isaac from out of the corner of his eye though and he finds it distracting. He needs to meet up with him. He needs to talk to him and to get to know him and-

A gentle nudging at his side breaks his train of thought. Stiles glances over to find Isaac looking back at him, gripping a tiny piece of paper in-between two of his long fingers. Stiles sends a quick look to the professor who is absorbed in writing a bunch of names and dates on the board in impossible to read handwriting. He reaches out to take the paper, brushing hands with Isaac as he does so. Isaac flinches a little but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he smiles crookedly at Stiles before letting go of the paper and turning back to his book. 

Stiles unfolds the paper and looks at it. A phone number. Isaac gave him his phone number. He has Isaac’s phone number. He sucks in a quick breath and lets it out, trying to stay calm. He looks up at the clock, disappointed to see that there is still an hour and a half left in the class. So much for caring about the Civil War. Or anything about this semester other than Isaac. 

~ISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAACISAAC~

He doesn’t even know his first name. Stilinski. That’s what the professor called him. Must have been his last name, right? What’s his first name? For the past two and a half hours, Isaac has been trying to think of a name that could possibly fit someone that good looking but he’s just come up empty. 

Right after class ended, Isaac had another class to run off to and… so had the other guy. They exchanged shy smiles after bumping into one another and then went their separate ways, Isaac remembering to ask him his name only after he was out of sight. Throughout his entire class and the thirty-five minutes it’s been since that class ended, all Isaac has been able to think of is Brown Eyes. 

Isaac’s phone vibrates and he glances nervously at it. Hey! the message reads. This is Stiles Stilinski from History class.

Stiles. Isaac turns the name over in his mind. He’s never heard of that name before yet somehow it seems perfect. Stiles Stilinski. A small turns up the corner of his mouth and he types out a response, fingers shaking as he does so. Hi. What’s up?

Waiting for Stiles’ next response is the most nerve wracking thing ever. Isaac can’t keep still and restlessly drums his fingers against the table until he notices the glares he’s getting. He’s in the library.

I was wondering if you wanted to meet up? I could fill you in on what you missed in the first class.

Isaac realizes right away that it’s impossible for him to have missed very much at all. Either Stiles is being really nice to him or he just feels sorry for him or… or he actually wants to hang out. Isaac can’t think of a reason for anyone to want to hang out with him but he’s not about to question it either. If he does then he’ll chicken out and never even have a chance at-

At what? His face has to be permanently red by this point. Isaac shakes his head and types out a reply. Sure, that’d be great. When are you free?

I have all day now! :D

He’s grinning from ear to ear now. Cool, I’m in the library right now. Do you want to meet somewhere else?

"Hey!"

Isaac flinches a little and turns around to see Brown Eyes- or rather, Stiles watching him in concern. 

"Isaac, right? Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you might be in the library so I thought I’d surprise you."

He remembers my name. Isaac licked his lips nervously and managed a small nod. “Y-yeah,” he said, the word catching in his throat. “No big deal.”

Stiles flashes him a dimpled smile and he feels the blush on the back of his neck travel up to his cheeks. “Isaac,” he says again, seemingly oblivious to the effect he’s having on the younger boy. “Is everything okay?”

"Other than the fact that I made a complete fool of myself back there?" Isaac lets out a breathless chuckle and lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "I’m used to it. High school isn’t kind to someone who can’t walk up stairs without tripping. I was hoping to make a better first impression at college though."

"First impressions aren’t for everyone," Stiles says carelessly. "I’m all about second or third, maybe fourth."

Isaac chuckles and then moves his backpack aside, nodding to Stiles so he can sit in the empty space. “You know, I didn’t even get a syllabus. Maybe that’ll help me make a better second impression.”

Stiles slides in next to him and pulls a notebook out of his backpack. “The professor should have given you one, but you can look at mine if you want. We didn’t do much. He read us what was one here as if we can’t read it ourselves and then he went into great detail on his own personal policies regarding absences and tardies, stuff like that.” He shrugs. “Pretty much what I expected from my first college class so I’m disappointed.”

Isaac scans the few pieces of paper, taking in the list of assignments and the basic course requirements. Stiles is right. It’s pretty standard. “Kinda sucks,” he says, taking down a few notes before sliding the papers back Stiles’ way. “I like history. I was hoping this would be interesting.”

"There’s a group project for the midterm if you want to work on it together," Stiles suggests. "That might make it more interesting."

The prospect of working with Stiles makes this class seem a lot more bearable. “Sure,” Isaac smiles awkwardly, not sure what to say now. It’s not like there was much to say to begin with, but he doesn’t want Stiles to leave.

Fortunately, despite how much he likes to make fun of himself and his apparent lack of social skills, Stiles isn’t close to running out of things to say. “So Lahey, huh? What is that, an Irish name?” 

"I guess? I don’t actually know."

"Sorry, boring question. I was trying to avoid the typical college questions. You know, like what is your major, where are you from, blah, blah, blah." Stiles laughs. 

He has a really nice laugh, Isaac decides. He grins back at him. “Stilinski, huh? Let me guess. Polish.”

"As Polish as it gets! Stiles isn’t my real first name though. Not even Scott knows my real first name. Only my dad. My mom picked it. It was her dad’s name, I think. I don’t know for sure though because I never met him."

Stiles is rambling now, but Isaac can only think of one thing. “Scott?” he asks, feeling embarrassed. It’s the not even Scott thing that’s sticking out to him. Not even. 

"My best friend back home," Stiles replies easily. "We’ve known each other since we were really little. I complain about my roommate all the time to him. Anyway. He doesn’t know my real name." He gives Isaac a little smirk. "Maybe you’ll get lucky enough one day."

Isaac is practically dying of curiosity but he doesn’t say anything. Stiles seems perfectly comfortable with the playful conversation but he doesn’t know what to think of it himself. 

"So," Stiles says, making Isaac jump a little. "Want to get lunch?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is mostly just thoughts that Stiles and Isaac are having about each other and their relationship. It switches point of views pretty abruptly in the middle but hopefully it shouldn't be too difficult to catch and follow. I have ideas of what I want to do with this story, just no actual order so I will have to consult with the lovely Sam. Until then, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

You can learn about someone without actually really talking to them. The first week or two was spent just studying with one another, exchanging casual conversation along with class notes and ideas for their group project. 

Stiles learns that Isaac doesn't like pickles because he always orders the same sandwich at the hoagie shop "without pickles" and then picks them off with a disgusted face when they still wind up hidden between the slices of turkey and cheese. 

He learns that he prefers pencils to pens because he's never once used the latter when working on his homework. And he chews on his pencils too which Stiles finds completely adorable for some reason. 

He learns that Isaac is left handed and that he had a lazy, sloppy scrawl that Stiles can't help but be attracted to. 

He learns that he's actually from somewhere in England because of the unmistakable accent that sneaks its way into his voice on occasion. 

He learns that his favorite superhero is Spider-Man because although he never talks about movies, he has a little notebook of the webbed hero that he keeps in his back pocket. 

He learns that Isaac's favorite time of day is late afternoon when the shadows begin to sneak across the campus and dim the library of its natural lighting. He knows this because of the peaceful look that always passes over the other boy's face and the way he watches the sunset with a look of awe. 

He learns that Isaac likes it when it rains because he owns a perfectly good umbrella that he carries with him but doesn't use even when it's pouring. And he looks perfectly content to be soaked by the short walks across campus. 

He learns that Isaac likes his coffee black and that he actually prefers tea to the more bitter drink. He also learns that Isaac's favorite food is Mexican because whenever they're trying to decide what to get for lunch it's always his first suggestion. 

All of those things Stiles has leaned by simply observing Isaac and his habits. He likes all of those things. They're pieces of a puzzle that when put together complete the picture that is Isaac, Stiles' new friend. He likes that he can know so much about a person without actually being told. But he doesn't like all of the things he knows that Isaac has never told him. 

He learns that Isaac is claustrophobic because even though he hasn't confessed to being so, he always takes the stairs. He prefers tables to booths and always makes sure that he's near the exit of wherever they are. He likes being outside more than in but not in a "it's a beautiful day" kind of way, more in a "I need the open space" way. 

He knows that Isaac's home situation probably isn't very good. He knows this partly because his own dad is the sheriff of his hometown and he's seen this sort of thing before. He knows what to look for. 

Isaac never talks about his parents. He's good at everything he does but he doubts himself so much that it physically hurts to watch him sometimes. He's eager to please but not because he wants to brag and impress. It's more like he's afraid he'll never be good enough. He doesn't drink and never goes to parties where there will be drinking involved. One time, they saw a cluster of kids hanging out in the courtyard who were obviously drunk and Isaac visibly flinched when one of the guys began to stumble over to then, slurring out something about joining their good time. 

Those are just the small things though. His arm has been broken before and never healed correctly. Again, he's never said anything but again, Stiles has seen it before. Scott's mom is a nurse and when his own mother was sick and in the hospital he saw a lot. He saw a middle aged woman in the ER one night with a black eye, telling the doctor she had walked into a door. Her left arm was skinnier than the right and though it worked, she favored it a little and her movements were slightly clumsy. 

Melissa McCall later told him she had been in numerous times before for tripping or walking into things. Her arm had been broken two years ago when she apparently fell down the basement steps and she had never gotten the right treatment for it. The night she came in with the black eye was the night Melissa had called Stiles' dad and then held her as she cried. 

That was years ago when Stiles' mom was still alive but sometimes when he watches Isaac nervously tap his pencil against his knee and flinch whenever the professor calls on him, he thinks of that woman and the way she never really looked anyone in the eye when she spoke of her accidents. 

Stiles wants so badly to say something and do something because he's rapidly growing very attached to Isaac and he cares about his well being. It scares him that something is probably very wrong in his home life but he doesn't know what to do about it. Isaac is very private about his personal life and Stiles has only known him for a month. 

They have a great time together but Isaac has yet to open up about anything outside of school. Stiles doesn't want to push him too hard too fast and scare him off. He wants to be trusted but Isaac won't even tell him that he likes pencils and hates pickles. 

"Stiles?" Isaac asks in that soft voice of his. "Is everything okay?" 

Stiles feels bad because this obviously isn't the first time Isaac has tried to get his attention and now he's looking a little uncertain, like he's afraid Stiles is mad at him for some reason. "No, dude," he says quickly, shaking his head and smiling. "Everything is great. I just spaced, sorry about that."

Isaac tries to smile back but something isn't quite right. Stiles has been too quiet today and Isaac doesn't know why. It's only just beginning to occur to him how little he knows about Stiles Stilinski. And what he does know he has just figured out on his own. As much as Stiles talks, he doesn't really talk about himself. 

Here is what Isaac knows about Stiles Stilinski all from random comments here and there or by simply observing him:

He likes plaid. Isaac would have to be blind to not notice the daily pattern of clothing the other boy wears. They've been meeting together for two weeks now and he's seen Stiles on nothing but plaid flannel shirts over a random tee. 

His favorite food is pizza which he insists is not Italian but actually American. And while Isaac can see his point because of America's obsession with the cheesy food, it doesn't mean it's suddenly not Italian. "America adopted it," Stiles had stubbornly insisted just the  
other day. Isaac only laughed. 

Stiles is really smart. Like freakishly smart. Isaac knows this because he sits next to him in their history class and listens as he mutters under his breath the answer to every single question their professor asks. He also corrects the man when he gets something wrong which Isaac finds both hysterical and impressive. 

He also knows Stiles is intelligent because he always has a book with him. And not just the latest best selling novel; he always has a thick volume of some non-fiction study or event. Everything Isaac has a question about, Stiles has the answer to. He doesn’t have a favorite or least favorite subject, he loves knowledge on a whole. He sucks up information like a vacuum and Isaac has no idea how he retains it all. 

Stiles also probably has ADD or ADHD or something like that because Isaac has never in his life seen someone have such a difficult time concentrating. He has zero ability to focus on something completely and he can't sit still for longer than thirty seconds at a time. Even when he's at his desk, he is in constant motion, leg bouncing up and down, long fingers tapping out a hurried rhythm on the wooden surface, Stiles is just a hurricane. 

His mom is dead. This Stiles has actually told him upfront but no details. Isaac still remembers how sad he looked the one time he mentioned his mom, even if it was just in passing. Isaac wanted so badly to say, “My mom is dead too,” like it would make both of them feel any better. It helps to know though that Stiles is close with his father. It’s impossible to miss the love and admiration that fills his brown eyes whenever he talks about him. 

He talks about his dad a lot. He’s a sheriff of the small town that Stiles calls his home. Beacon Hills. Isaac looked it up once but he couldn’t find anything particularly special. The high school’s lacrosse team was supposedly pretty great a couple of years ago. The crime rate is low, thanks probably to the sheriff. 

His best friend is named Scott McCall. Stiles talks about him even more than he talks about his dad. He talks about Scott so much that Isaac can’t help but feel a little jealous. It’s the way Stiles talks about him like he hung the moon. Scott this, Scott that, apparently Scott McCall is an actual perfect person. 

Isaac guesses that Stiles either doesn’t sleep well or has problems chronic fatigue because he’s often pale and has deep dark circles under his eyes. He yawns a lot and nods off in class whenever the professor’s lectures start dragging on. 

He knows that Stiles has a friend here at the college, a pretty redhead named Lydia Martin. But he also knows that the two of them aren’t together because well, Stiles has said as much and they’ve given Isaac no reason to believe otherwise. They’re old high school friends and act more like brother and sister than anything else. 

Sometimes he wonders anyway though. Because Lydia and Stiles are perfect for one another. They’re both incredibly attractive, smart, fun to be around, kind and thoughtful, the reasons are endless. But Isaac isn’t jealous of Lydia. He can’t be. She’s too nice. Besides, she flirts with just about every other guy in the school aside from Isaac and Stiles.

Stiles hates his roommate and this is a really obvious fact because he rants about him nearly every single day. He doesn’t clean his side of the dorm room, he eats Stiles’ food, he invites girls over and has sex with them at least three times a week, he never goes to class or does any of his assignments. Isaac would blame this Jackson on Stiles’ constant tiredness but it feels like there’s something more to it than just him being stuck with such an obnoxious human being.

Stiles love Star Wars. Like loves. Even the ones directed by George Lucas. When Isaac tried to argue with him, Stiles proposed that one weekend they’d have a marathon and he’d point out everything that was right with episodes one through three. He swore he’d never watch them again but he doesn’t want to disappoint Stiles by saying no. 

Stiles has a fear of needles and blood. Isaac knows this because he went to the nurse’s office once to get some medicine for a migraine and found Stiles there. “We were testing blood types in class and I passed out as soon as the professor handed me the needle,” Stiles had said with a laugh. But Isaac spent the rest of the day worried about his friend having a concussion and relieved when he saw him perfectly whole and happy the next morning. 

Isaac knows quite a bit about Stiles without having actually been told. A word here and there maybe but mostly he’s learned it just by being with him. On one hand, Isaac likes this. He likes that he and Stiles don’t have to talk to know about each other. But he also knows that if they were to get any closer than it would help them to talk. He feels like there’s a bunch of secrets between them and he hates that. He’s just as responsible as Stiles is, maybe even more so. 

It’s just that his entire eighteen years of existence has been spent hiding out and not trusting anyone. He wants to open up and talk, but he just doesn’t know how. The only friend he ever had, a girl named Allison, moved away when they were in middle school. And even then them being “friends” counted as conversations to and from school on the bus and in the cafeteria. But those conversations were sometimes deep and important, at least for a couple of nine year olds. 

It’s like starting all over again. Isaac was eight when he and Allison first met and over the course of the six years that they knew each other, he began to know what trust was. But then she left and he was all on his own once more. He wants to let Stiles in but he’s terrified of being left alone again and not being able to handle it this time. He’s made it this far by himself so why would he need to change anything?

But Stiles is changing him whether he realizes it or not and Isaac is just trying to figure out if that’s a good thing or if he maybe needs to put a stop to this friendship before it goes any further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm slowly getting an outline for this story. And by outline, I mean ideas. I never have actual outlines because I'm never that organized. My hope is to at least put these ideas into an order of sorts.

All-nighters suck. Isaac was once told by a counselor that a regulated sleep schedule could help with the nightmares he deals with from time to time. So a couple of years ago he started going to bed at eleven on the dot and waking up at six thirty. It actually has helped a little bit and Isaac is appreciative of whatever works no matter how small. He takes what he can get. 

It's almost one in the morning now and he's starting to feel the weariness beginning to creep up on him. His eyes are irritated and heavy. His back and neck are getting stiff. He's yawning. He's afraid that if he closes his eyes for longer than a second, he's just going to fall asleep. As much as he wants to sleep right now, he doesn't want to let Stiles down.

Stiles is tireless, bent over his laptop in his attempt to turn all their research into a paper that they can present about tomorrow morning. Isaac is trying to help but he feels pretty useless right now. His mind is shutting down, the numerous cups of coffee doing nothing to stop the inevitable crash. The only reason he's awake now is because he's concerned about Stiles, who has disregarded his normal "no caffeine" rule in exchange for three Monsters and two coffees since eight thirty. 

"It's too bad that this isn't third grade," he says, all jittery and hyper attentive. He's blinking a lot and it's making Isaac slightly dizzy. "'Cuz then we could just- just make it kinda fun. Like. . . a skit or something. Between George Washington and wait, this is the Civil War, not the Revolutionary War, my bad. Anyway. This isn't even third grade."

"Stiles-" Isaac starts to say. 

"I just hate presentations," Stiles rambles on. "I can prove that I know what I know in a paper, why do I have to say it in front of everyone? This paper is practically finished and we still have to figure out how to make it a ten minute presentation. No one is going to listen to us anyway. I wish we could just BS it but the professor will-"

"Stiles!"

"I guess we'll finish this paper up and see what time it is then. We'll figure it out when we know how much time is left. If the first part of this project is good enough, then we can make less of an effort in the second part and we can still get a good grade. I mean, we don't really have time for this. Midterms are coming up and we need to study for them."

Isaac places his hand on Stiles' shoulder, somehow refraining from pulling back when Stiles jumps. "Hey, Stiles take a deep breath, okay? Try to calm down."

"I'm fine," Stiles shrugs him off and flashes him a sheepish grin. "I'm just a little over caffeinated and nervous."

Isaac smiles a little, glad that despite startling him at first, he's hopefully helped calm Stiles down, if only a little. "Why are you nervous?" he asks, softly, gesturing to the computer screen with a sweep of his free hand. Stiles breaks his gaze to look. "The professor loves you and you know all of this stuff, mostly off the top of your head. The only reason we've done any research is because we need that works cited page."

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I hate works cited. I could probably say it a lot better than these quotes we have here." He scrolls down the word document, eyes glazing over a little. His long fingers rub his forehead as a grimace forms.

"Headache?" Isaac questions sympathetically.

"Been staring at the screen too long," Stiles says with a sigh. "I have a stiff neck too." 

Isaac frowns, thoughts of their group project beginning to slip away in his concern for his friend. "Need some Advil?"

"Yeah, but I don't have any." Stiles kind of laughs. "It's fine."

But Isaac is already fishing in his backpack for the bottle of Advil he usually carries with him just in case. He's learned. Nightmares equals lack of sleep, and lack of sleep equals headaches. "Here, I have some."

Stiles looks really grateful as he takes the little pills and dry swallows them. "Thanks," he sighs, reaching back up to his aching neck. 

Isaac beats him to it and gently massages his neck. Stiles sighs again and gives in, lowering his head until it rests on the surface of the desk he's at. "Thanks," he whispers again. 

"So," Isaac takes the cue and looks at the screen. He can feel Stiles trembling under his fingertips and rolls his eyes. Turns out his friend has an incredibly low tolerance for caffeine and he's had enough to make an addict shaky. "When was the last time you've eaten?" he asks. "Too much caffeine on an empty stomach isn't good for you."

"We had pizza at ten, remember?" Stiles chuckles. "I'll be okay once the Advil kicks in."

"Just don't make it a habit," Isaac requests. The air conditioner in the library always makes a weird thumping noise throughout the different rooms, otherwise he'd be sure he could hear Stiles' heart. America sure does run on Dunkin', he thinks wryly. 

An idea comes to him then and he nudges Stiles who again jumps about a mile in the air. "Sorry. Move over."

Stiles looks confused and also cross eyed at this point but he obeys wordlessly. He doesn't even protest when Isaac takes his precious laptop away. It's like he's bewildered and wants to ask, but his scrambled brain can't think of the appropriate words. 

"How about you dictate and I'll write?" Isaac asks, flexing his fingers over the keyboard. "And we'll just wing our presentation."

"But-"

"Stiles," Isaac says insistently. "In about two hours now you're going to crash from all the caffeine you've had tonight."

"I can always-"

But Isaac is shaking his head before Stiles can even finish. "I'm afraid that if you have one more can of Monster or one more cup of coffee, you're going to have a heart attack. Trust me. A crash is a lot better."

It was meant to be a lame joke, but Stiles is staring at him like he's speaking a different language. At first, Isaac is afraid he's going to refuse again, but then he merely nods and leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Okay, so where exactly are we?"

Isaac scans the pages, correcting a few typos here and there. "Southern secession according to your outline."

Stiles nods like it's all coming back to him. "Okay, great."

For the next hour and a half, Stiles dictates and Isaac types. They go back and forth countless times, erasing and revising so many times that Isaac is sure he can type some of the words with his eyes closed and hands tied behind his back. 

It reaches the point where they're both on the verge of delirium. Stiles' words start to slur and Isaac is literally nodding off. When he yawns, his jaw cracks so painfully that they both wince. 

"Dude," an exhausted giggle escapes Stiles when Isaac's forehead comes within inches of the keyboard. "Not to criticize your typing at all because I wouldn't be any better, but we're going to have to ask someone to proof read it for us before we hand it in. I don't know about you, but I'll be this tired until the weekend."

Isaac nods then props his chin in his hand. "Yeah. Good idea."

Stiles waves a hand carelessly. "Less jus give it up," he says and sits up. "Here. Lemme slap on a conclusion and then we can go to bed."

Isaac is so tired that he almost cries out of relief. "Yeah," he says again, unable to think of anything else. "Good idea."

Stiles frowns as he stares at the screen. "What was our thesis? I don't think he'll accept "wars are bad. the end", do you?" He shakes his head. "Prolly not. Okay. Lets do this."

Isaac watches him as he types but he doesn't watch what he types. Stiles suddenly transforms back into the Stiles he knows best. Alert. Confident. Ready to take control and finish. He wishes he could do the same. 

Ten minutes later, Stiles leans back in his chair and nods in satisfaction. "Probably not the best conclusion I've ever written but it's good enough. I'm too tired to try for anything better."

"My mom used to say, "Sometimes good enough is more than enough. It's all you need."" Isaac's eyes widen a little. That just came out. He makes it a point not to talk about his personal life too often. It usually most makes things more complicated. 

Stiles is half asleep but he catches the mention of Isaac's mother and looks curious as he saves the document and closes his laptop. He glances at Isaac and can somehow tell right away that the subject is closed and was never meant to be open in the first place. He smiles easily and Isaac feels the tension drain away a little. 

"Can we go to bed now?" Isaac pleads, partly because he wants to change the subject and WOW he's just that tired. 

"Mhm," Stiles murmurs and then curls up in the couch where he's sitting. "Good night."

Isaac gives him a little shake. "Can't sleep here," he reminds him. 

"I'm too tired to care," Stiles replies. "'sides, Jackson brought s’nother girl over and they'll be at it like rabbits all night long. I'll sleep better here."

Isaac is putting his stuff in his backpack but pauses to think. He lives on his own in a tiny apartment across town from the school. It's in a bad section but nothing terrible. He's not a neat freak but he certainly isn't a slob either. There is no reason Stiles can't come spend the night. In fact, it would probably help him. 

Except. . . There is a reason. Isaac bites his lip and then stands up, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. "C'mon," he says, nudging Stiles again. "Let's go, sleepyhead."

Stiles swats at him, hitting only empty air. "Noooo," he moans. "Leave me alone. You go, Isaac, I'll be okay for one night in here. I just need this one night to not hear sex noises from across the room."

He probably will be okay. Students aren't supposed to sleep here but on occasion they do. And it's Stiles. The librarians all like him. Isaac hesitates. "If you're sure."

But Stiles doesn't answer. He's fast asleep. Isaac bites his lip and looks around, still reluctant to leave him on his own. The library is creepy this late at night. Or is it early in the morning at this point? He takes a step back, away from Stiles and then steps forward again. 

He tries not to think about it too much. He moves quickly, running all of his actions into one smooth one. Backpack off, jacket off, jacket over Stiles, backpack on, walk out of the library. There. That's it. The end. 

Until tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for reading! And thanks to Sam for all of her help!!

**Author's Note:**

> Weeeellllll?? Well, thank you for reading!!


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